


Okay

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Series: Autism "Coming Out" Fics [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autism, Autism Acceptance, Autistic Fitz, Gen, autism acceptance month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 04:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14180163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: After passing at a team lunch, Fitz tells May he's autistic





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckysbears (DrZebra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/gifts).



> Let's start April off right with some autistic fic :)

This should have been a nice outing.

It was lunch with the whole team (except Jemma, who was back in England, visiting her parents) to celebrate their latest victory. Usually, Fitz would be happy about this: it’s free food and a day off work. What was not to love?

The first Warning should have been that they went to a restaurant he had never been to before.

Even if there were standard dishes served in every restaurant, every restaurant did it a little bit differently; and there was no guarantee that he would like the way this restaurant did it.

But, of course, Coulson had insisted he’d get food for the lot of them, paying out of his pocket. Fitz hadn’t thought too much of it at the time. After all, Fitz knows this rather allistic custom well enough to know that he was probably going to order a whole lot and then people could pick and choose what they wanted. Surely there’d be something he liked.

The second Warning came when Colson did not do that.

Instead, Coulson orders a couple of lasagnes to be shared between the lot of them. Fitz doesn’t like lasagne. Not restaurant lasagne, anyway. They’re too cheesy. Fitz doesn’t really like cheese. It just...doesn’t taste right. And the texture is Not Right, either. Everything about cheese makes Fitz shudder.

Of course, he can tolerate small amounts of cheese. Or, tiny amounts of cheese by most people’s standards. But it’s a small amount to him. This is why he’ll only eat homemade pizza and lasagne; at home he can have control over _exactly_ how much cheese makes it into the dish.

He hasn’t told any of the team about his dislike of cheese. Except Jemma, of course. She gets it.

 

(She always gets it)

 

But only Jemma. He knows the others wouldn’t understand, or make fun of him, or make him feel stupid about it. He’s had it enough times to know that this is always how it plays out.

Fortunately for him, by some miracle, May tells Coulson to get a whole heap of bread, too. And not just garlic bread; plain bread, too. Fitz discreetly sighs in relief. Even if May doesn’t know about him not liking cheese, it’s a comfort knowing that he’ll still have something to eat, and not having to look like a diva or ungrateful for ordering a different food to everyone else.

The food comes, and everyone digs in. Fitz knows that no one else will want the plain bread, so he helps himself to as much as his plate can hold and greedily devours it.

It’s his favourite type of restaurant bread - the little rolls they usually use for the entree. They taste crisp and warm, having just come out of the oven or microwave, or whatever they use to heat it up. It’s sweet - but not too sweet - it’ _just_ the right amount of sweet. If bread were a fruit, Fitz would describe this kind as “juicy”. He doesn’t know exactly why, but it’s the word that _fits_.

But Fitz should have realised that this wouldn’t work out. Even if the previous Warnings amounted to nothing, he should have known there was always _someone_ who noticed.

This time, it just so happened to be Mack.

“Hey, Turbo, don’t you want any lasagne?”

Fitz shakes his head, continuing to eat his bread.

“Are you sure? Coulson bought it for all of us.”

“‘M sure,” Fitz says around his mouthful of bread, shoving more into his mouth to keep himself from losing it. He’s realised that Mack’s noticed, and if he lets the conversation go on, Mack will undoubtedly find out, and it will all be over.

“Okay. But that plain bred does look quite boring. You sure you don’t at least want some garlic bread?”

Fitz is so close to panicking. How does he explain to Mack that he doesn’t like cheese, nor garlic bread, without being made fun of?

“‘M fine, Mack,” Fitz grumbles, desperately trying not to lose his temper. His leg is bouncing up and down rapidly, and he shoves a full roll into his mouth and chomps down to keep from grinding his teeth in both frustration and fear.

“Positive?”

Fitz can’t answer, feeling himself on the edge of a meltdown. He _really_ does not want to meltdown right in the middle of a restaurant. He chews at the roll in his mouth really fast.

As luck would have it, May steps in for the second time that day.

“Leave him be, Mack. If he says he doesn’t want lasagne or garlic bread, he doesn’t want lasagne or garlic bread.”

Mack accepts this and goes back to talking to Elena just as Fitz swallows the bread and sigh in relief. He looks at May, who catches his eye. He mouths the words “thank you” to her, and she gives him a little nod with a smile, before reaching for more lasagne.

After being back at the base for a few hours and calming down from the outing, Fitz goes to find May. He wants to thank her properly, and, maybe, tell her. Yeah, that’s it. He’s going to tell her.

He finds her in the lounge area. No one else is around. She’s sitting on the couch, sipping some tea and reading a book. He twists his fingers nervously as he makes his way deeper into the room.

“Can I do something for you, Fitz?” May asks, not looking up.

“I, uh, yeah, I wanted to say thanks for what you did at lunch,” Fitz says, stumbling over his words. He comes to a halt a few feet from where May is sitting.

“You already said that. At the restaurant.”

“I-I know. I just, I wanted to, uh, say it properly. ‘Coz technically I mouthed the words to you at lunch, and that’s not the same as saying the w-”

“You’re welcome Fitz,” May says, cutting into his ramble. Her tone is firm and somewhat annoyed, but holds a gentleness in it. “Is that all?”

“I, um, er,” Fitz swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the words out, “I’m autistic, May.”

May doesn’t say anything, and so Fitz opens his eyes. She’s looking at him over the top of her book.

He looks back at her.

She waits for him to say something.

He waits for her to say something.

She waits.

He waits.

She waits more.

He caves.

“I said that I’m autistic.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why didn’t you _say_ something?” Fitz questions loudly, suddenly annoyed.

“Wasn’t sure why you told me.”

Fitz pauses. Why _had_ he told her? He searches for the reason. Coming here, he wasn’t sure why he wanted to tell May; he just knew that he wanted May to know.

“I...don’t know,” he admits, lowering his head and twisting his fingers again. “I just, uh, wanted you to know.”

“Okay.”

Fitz’s head shoots up. “Huh?”

“I said: okay.”

Fitz can’t help but smile a little. He knows May well enough by now that he knows an ‘okay’ from May means so much more than just ‘okay’. It means that she’s heard him, and has listened, and respects what he has to say, and is accepting of what he’s said, and above all, is accepting of _him_.

He doesn’t quite know how she manages to fit all of that into one ‘okay’. He’ll have to ask her one day. Just...not right now. That would be awkward; it’s not the time to.

“Okay,” Fitz echoes, although his okay is more of a ‘thank you’. He waits a few beats, and when May goes back to reading her book, he turns and leaves, whispering to himself.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Self project onto Fitz? I would never!!! (Okay maybe I am projecting a little bit but THAT'S WHY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EXIST BARBARA).


End file.
